Molly Seavy-Nesper

This compact, no-frills kitchen in Port Richmond sports an undeniable ’70s vibe, unchanged by time or the new hipster clientele rushing in for reliable, bone-sticking Polish fare. An obvious choice is the classic potato and cheese pierogi, which earns high marks not only for its presentation (it’s served swimming in a pool of buttery goodness and topped with a dollop of sour cream) but a near-perfect potato-to-cheese ratio. You get six for a measly $4.60. For something heartier try a $3.50 bowl of bigos, a traditional hunters stew made with sauerkraut, kielbasa and pork and served with a hunk of bread.

This epic Polish restaurant/grocery store recently celebrated its 30th anniversary. From the Polish greeting card selection to the freezer bursting with to-go pierogi, this Port Richmond gem is a sure-bet when you’re in the mood for Eastern European staples imported straight from the source or a hearty meal of soul-warming goodness. You can’t go wrong with the piping hot kielbasa or flaky housemade pastries, but the fried pierogi will absolutely rock your world—or at the very least put you in a state of food-coma bliss.

This Port Richmond watering hole and eatery takes its pierogi serious. Don’t believe us? They throw a whole weeklong festival, Pierogi Week, every February that’s dedicated to the filling Polish nosh. That event features 20 varieties of pierogi, offerings that you’re likely to find on the menu at any given time throughout the year. Some standouts include the straight-and-simple potato-and-cheese version, which is boiled, pan-fried and stuffed with cheddar cheese rather than the usual Polish farmer cheese. That’s served with housemade sauerkraut and the prerequisite sour cream. For something a little more off-the-wall, visit in the fall for the Thanksgiving pierogi, which, like its name suggests, is filled with turkey and served with a side of stuffing and gravy.

As I write this I am emerging from what can only be described as a pierogi-induced coma. I’ve eaten easily a dozen pierogi in an afternoon for “research,” and I’m going to be honest, I don’t feel great. No regrets, though. My Polish ancestors are smiling down on me, but they’re also kind of judging me, like, “Why would you do that to yourself?” Fair question. The only answer I have is that pierogi, doughy potato cheese dumplings, are the food equivalent of a hug. They’re home to me. Pierogi run so deep in my blood that when I got back my “23 & Me” I learned I’m mostly made of butter. After eating latkes all day (and loving it), I wanted to see what a Philadelphia pierogi crawl would be like. Port Richmond is the epicenter of Polish cuisine and culture in Philadelphia. There are plenty of other options throughout the city, to be sure, but if you want to get down and dirty with the real authentic stuff—and walk from place to place—this is where you need to be. Take a break from the basic brunch crowds of Center City and micro-dose potatoes and cheese all day instead. Note: For consistency I had the classic potato and cheese pierogi at each place. Almost every order came with sour cream, fried onions on top and cost about $6 to $7 for an order of five to seven pierogi. Syrenka Luncheonette Syrenka, a cafeteria-style establishment, has a ’70s vibe, unchanged by time or the new wave of hipster clientele. This was my group’s first stop, so perhaps we were the most excited/hungry,

Finally, it’s fall. What do I crave most as we head into sweater weather? No, I’m not talking about pumpkin spice mishigas. I’m talking latkes—delicious potato pancakes—typically eaten around Hanukkah. Unlike the holiday displays at CVS, I believe the consumption of latkes can never come too soon. Philly has an annual "Latkepalooza" in December, where restaurants like Jones, Circles and Federal Donuts serve gourmet latkes. As a pregame to this event, since December feels too far away, I organized a latke crawl. . I’ve never been much of a beer-crawl person. As a sedentary life form I’d rather pick a place and stick to it, but the promise of new latkes waiting to be discovered was enough for me to break my rule. I picked four spots within walking distance of each other and designed a scorecard to keep track of my findings (including a spot for a doodle of each latke. Spoiler alert, they’re surprisingly hard to draw.) I will say upfront that I am not a latke purist. Some people believe that in order to be a true latke the potato must be grated, not mashed. As one friend said so well, “the important thing about latkes is that there’s literally skin in the game” from the tedious and sometimes painful grating process. Generally, I’d like my latke to have onion or seasoning of some kind, and of course sour cream on the side. I brought with me two of my most gung-ho, pro-potato friends, and we embarked on our deliciously salty journey. Here's how it went: Schlesinger’s Deli, 1521 Lo